


Relations Among Peer Influences

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Entourage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:32:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1624496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's something in between, I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relations Among Peer Influences

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my betas, Soundingsea and Kita0610, without whom this story would not have existed. Their encouragement and generosity, as well as their constructive comments, were invaluable.
> 
> Written for ro

 

 

 _The Ivy_ `

"Why're you standing in the fucking line?"

Eric looked up in time to see the crowd separating reluctantly behind him as Ari elbowed his way in from the door. He pulled his cell phone from his ear and flipped it closed, mid-ring. "What did I tell you about keeping me waiting, you fucking prick," he said by way of greeting.

He gave Ari the once-over. Christ, he looked like shit, frazzled around all his edges, his face wrinkled in a vinegary expression, his hair askew. Ever since he'd started his own agency, he'd been more and more haggard. His suit was impeccable though, even if his tie was coiled around, showing its Pink label. Probably did that on purpose.

"Eric, this is _The Ivy_," Ari said. He pointed with his index finger and then poked Eric, right above the first closed button of his shirt. Ari was standing so close, Eric could smell his coffee-breath. He would have moved back, but there wasn't any room. "You see these people?" Ari's arm darted out, grabbing the nearest girl and spinning her around.

"Hey!" the girl said. She slapped at Ari weakly until he let her go. She glared at both of them while adjusting her tank top. Her three friends pivoted, hands on their hips, and Eric stared at their matching fur boots while they all exclaimed the same combination of confused profanities.

"Oh, feisty," Ari said, gnawing on his knuckle. He leaned to his left as if he'd come across something unexpectedly pleasant and wasn't sure how to react. "I like you, you have fire. What's your number, sweetheart? You wanna blow a real man for a change? How 'bout you?" He jerked his chin in the direction of one of the other girls. "You're not that pretty, but I can tell you're beautiful on the inside."

"Ari - " Eric put a hand out and tugged on Ari's arm to get his attention. It worked.

"You see these people, Eric," Ari started up again, but this time he kept his voice lowered. He crossed his arms and stepped into Eric's personal space again. He'd clearly already forgotten about the girls. Eric shoved his hands in his pockets and slid them an apologetic look. They sneered back. "They're nobodies. They're tourists and wanna-be's and Shannen Doherty."

Eric grabbed Ari by both arms this time and pushed him away from the increasingly insulted crowd. "They didn't have a table, okay?"

"They didn't - " Ari sputtered. He swiveled his head in that robotic way he moved when he was angry. "What's the matter - didn't the hostess recognize you? I'll have her fired. No, I'll have her killed. She doesn't deserve to live."

"Ari, for fuck's sake."

"No, Eric, let me be clear on this. This isn't some Italian fast-food chain in Boise or New York City or any of those other interchangeable no-name towns outside of California - this is _The Ivy_." With every word, Ari's voice got thinner and louder. Eric slouched into a more comfortable position, knowing this was just the warm-up. "And if you're lucky enough to get the opportunity to let some fat pedophile come all over your face in exchange for a job here," Ari kept going, jabbing the air with both arms and twisting his head so that he was yelling in the direction of the hostess," it is your duty and your privilege and your _fucking sacred goal in life_ to recognize Vincent Chase's manager's little finger, much less his face."

Eric looked over to the side and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Are you finished now, you crazed lunatic?" he asked, straightening up. He watched while Ari lifted his tie and positioned it neatly back against his shirt front. The blow-up was over, they were moving on. "Lindsay Lohan's here with fifty of her closest friends. She's taken over the whole place. There are no tables," he said, emphasizing each syllable. He held up his cell phone like it was evidence. "That's why I've been trying to call you for the last fifteen minutes, asshole."

The girl in front turned around again, but this time she stared right at Eric in a hungry, predatory way. "Are you really Vincent Chase's manager?" She stroked her fingers along the hollow of her breasts then tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Eric said, wishing he were someplace else. It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did. Not that he'd admit it to anyone. The girl was hot -- he'd been checking out the high, tight curve of her ass while he tried to get Ari on the phone. Now all he wanted was a fucking sandwich.

Ari's gaze bounced between Eric and the girl, and then he gave Eric a weird look. "You know I'm not allowed to drive and talk on the phone at the same time," he said, ignoring the girl while she tugged her shirt down to reveal her red bra strap. He patted Eric's cheek and flashed him a grin. "It's against the law. Do you want me to break the law? Do you want me to go to jail?"

"Ari, shut the fuck up," Eric said. "Where are you going?"

"I don't stand in line at _Disneyland_ , Eric," Ari said, pushing his way towards the door. "And being seen waiting for a table is career suicide, you understand that?"

"Yeah, you're doing a real good job of laying low so no one will notice us," Eric scoffed, following him. The girl grabbed for his sleeve, but he pulled himself free, pretending he didn't know what she wanted.

"I know what I'm doing," Ari said. They stepped out on to the sidewalk. Across the street, there was a line of SUVs with zoom lenses balanced on the driver side windows. The repetitive click of shutters closing sounded above the persistent hum of traffic. "I always know what I'm doing. I've been in this business for twenty-five years."

"You are so fucking full of shit. You told me three years ago that it was fifteen."

"Oh, you can count. Must have learned that from balancing the cash register at Sbarro's."

"Yeah, I can count. Come to think of it, you graduated from Michigan in '90, right? What can _you_ do - fold space and time?"

"The first problem with you, Eric - the first of _many_ \- is that you think the fucking facts still matter." Ari palmed his keys out of his pants pocket and pressed the unlock button. The taillights of the BMW winked at them.

"You just create your own reality, don't you Ari?" Eric shook his head. "Hey! What about our meeting?"

Ari slid into the driver's seat of his car and pointed down the street. "Get in your Maserati, Vin Diesel. We're going someplace that *does* still matter."

"Where?" Eric asked. He stepped to the side to let a family in matching green t-shirts pass. "Starbucks?"

"That's my boy."

 

 

 

_Forty Deuce_

The club was jumping tonight. Tuesday was the new Thursday. Or was that Monday was the new Wednesday? It was hard to tell the difference anymore.

"You're supposed to be in Malta," Ari said. He flopped down next to Eric and picked up one of the shots Eric had lined up. Mouthed a silent _cheers_ and swallowed it down, his adam's apple dipping erratically in the blue and purple lights spinning over their heads. He made a face and tipped the glass over neatly. "Oh, soju. Gam sa ham ni da."

"It's almost ten o' clock," Eric said. He picked up two more shots and handed one of them over. "Aren't you going to miss your curfew?" They emptied the glasses in unison. It seemed to take longer and longer these days to work up a drunk.

"You know, if you and Vince had a fight, I wouldn't worry about it - you lovebirds always make up eventually," Ari said. He struggled with the button at his collar for a few seconds before he could get it undone. Eric didn't know how Ari could stand to wear ties every day. Eric hadn't worn a tie since senior prom.

"I told them to go without me," he said. "I have a meeting over at Warner's tomorrow." He slid a little further down on his seat and slung his arm along the back of the couch. "Then another meeting with Spielberg on Friday. Heard of him?"

Ari wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and picked up the bottle of soju to refill all the glasses. "You don't have a meeting with Spielberg - you have a meeting with Spielberg's _people_. And I knew about your meeting with Spielberg before you knew about your meeting with Spielberg."

"Then why're you asking me about Malta?"

Ari took another shot and sucked on the pad of his thumb. "I just wanted to rub in the fact that your friends ditched you for the week. I bet they're on the beach right now, gang-banging an Italian lingerie model while you sit in the corner of last month's hotspot by yourself."

Eric stopped with a shot glass halfway to his mouth. "Fuck you, asshole."

Ari opened his arms in invitation. "It looks like you're going to have to, since I'm the only one paying you any attention, you pathetic piece of shit," he said with a warm smile. "Come on, show me a little skin. I swear I won't tell."

"I'd rather choke on Valderrama's cock first." He smiled back and felt himself relaxing. Maybe he was a little drunk after all. He swallowed another mouthful of soju down for good measure and set the glass on its side. It spun in slow circles along the surface of the table, round and round.

"I love these little chats, Eric. I feel like they really bring us closer together," Ari said in a distracted tone. He checked his Treo and scanned the room then punched out a message without looking at the keypad. "Seriously, what are you doing here alone? What happened to that little brunette you were riding?"

Eric shrugged and positioned the glasses in a neat line. "It's over," he said, not wanting to talk about it.

Ari fit the Treo in the inside pocket of his suit jacket and fixed all of his attention on Eric. Eric shifted in his seat and pretended he was watching the dance floor. "Starfuckers," Ari said, and Eric let it go even though it wasn't true. Sloan was a nice girl. She'd just wanted something more. More time, more loyalty. Things Eric couldn't give because he'd already given them to Vince. "Forget it." Ari took a swig straight from the bottle and held it out for Eric to take. "Here." He kept staring at Eric until Eric took the bottle from him. "You're not fucking Vince, are you?" he asked, as if he could read Eric's mind, except through some, warped Ari-shaped filter. "You wouldn't do that to me. I don't need another 80-pound fuck-toy causing me trouble. I've already got that at home."

Eric gave up a dry, surprised laugh. He cradled the bottle against his chest and let his head roll against the velvet covering the couch. "Oh, you're comparing me to Mrs. Ari now?" The music sounded really far away. Ari's knee was right up against Eric's thigh. The rest of the couch was empty, but he didn't move.

"Well, you're the two biggest pains in my ass," Ari said. He was punching the keys in the phone again.

*I hate sleeping in that fucking mansion by myself,* Eric almost said. Instead he opted for, "What _does_ Mrs. Ari's strap-on look like?"

"It's big and it's black, baby."

This time Eric laughed for real. "Yeah, I'll just bet it is."

 

 

 

_ Shawn Carter Residence _

Ari was still banging his fist on the other side of the bathroom door.

"Whatever you're doing in there, Eric, it's not nice not to share with your friends."

Eric spit into the sink and walked over to the door to unlock it. He let Ari in and went back to the sink to run the taps again. Cupped some water into his hand and sucked it in and gurgled. He still tasted acid every time he swallowed. Still, it was a nice bathroom, as far as ten-point-five million dollar homes went. He looked in the mirror and told himself that four years ago, he was doing his throwing up in a studio apartment in Queens. Somehow it didn't make him feel any better.

"What, are you on the Mary Kate diet plan?" Ari hovered in front of the doorway, his mouth a thin line. Under the amber lights, he looked worn out and slightly sallow. "How many times do I have to keep telling you you're pretty just the way you are?"

"Will you stop asking me so many goddamn questions?" Eric leaned his back against the wall by the sink. He ran his tongue over his teeth and wondered if it'd be rude to search through the medicine cabinet for some toothpaste.

There was the soft snap of the door locking before Ari walked over to turn the taps off. Then he hugged himself and dipped his chin into his chest. He stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, his mouth curved downward. He was perfectly still. "I don't get you."

"Yeah, well there's a surprise," Eric said, his voice scratching his throat. He inhaled through his mouth and tried to keep the room from spinning off its axis. When he opened his eyes, Ari was standing right in front of him, looking at him balefully.

"Okay," Ari said, right before he started doing a demented little dance. He shuffled his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and rolled his head a few time, then tugged his sleeves up. "What the hell."

"What the _hell_ \- " Eric reared back so fast, he banged his head, a sharp crack echoing off the tiles. While he was reeling from the pain, Ari had managed to get Eric's fly undone and now he was snaking his hand inside. Eric shoved at Ari and got pinned against the wall for his effort. "The fuck are you doing, you sick fuck?"

"Turtle says you're still not getting laid," Ari said. His tone was perfectly even. He squinted at Eric.

"The fuck does that have to do with anything," Eric said. Ari and Turtle were talking now? About him? His shoes squeaked against the marble floor. In between grabbing Ari's wrist and doing his best not to pass out, it occurred to Eric that if Ari knew where to find him, his friends might, too. He imagined Vince breaking the door down to find his agent fondling his manager. "Get your fucking hands off me - I'm not a faggot!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Eric," Ari was practically yelling. What he had to be so upset about, Eric couldn't tell. It wasn't _his_ dick in some other guy's hand. "Handjobs don't mean you're a faggot - don't you ever pay attention?"

Eric gritted his teeth and shoved at Ari again. "What is that? Some other rule that only applies in Hollywood?"

Ari slammed him against the wall again, which made Eric grab at him to keep himself from folding over when his vision swam. That last joint was starting to look like a really bad idea. "Those are the only rules that anyone who's anyone cares about. When're you gonna learn?"

"God, you are so fucking demented. I don't even know why I fucking put up with you," Eric said, but his voice had lost some volume. He slumped against the wall, his fly open and Ari Gold breathing on his cheek and he felt like he was going to throw up again. "I don't want this." He was starting to get a headache, right at the bridge of his nose. "Maybe I don't want any of this."

"You are such a needy little bitch," Ari said. He'd stopped moving his hand, though. "Your life is so fucking hard, is that it? Get up at noon, party all night. Go to two meetings a week?"

"I'm sick of this shit," he said, his voice rising again. He tried to twist out of Ari's grasp, but the motherfucker was stronger than he looked. Plus, taller. He couldn't get any leverage. His breathing went uneven and he remembered every single time he'd felt helpless and small and stupid in the last three years. There were a lot of times to count.

"So fight back," Ari said.

"What the fuck do you think I'm doing?" Eric punched him in the shoulder. Ari barely flinched.

"No, you East Cost maggot shit for brains! Fight *back*."

Eric dragged air into his lungs in a long, steady breath and uncurled his fists. Ari was staring back at him, all furrowed brows and quiet concentration. He looked really fucking serious. To sum up, not like Ari at all. He dragged one hand down from Ari's collar and between his legs. He struggled with the zipper of Ari's pants but he finally managed to get it undone. And now they were standing here, the taste of acid in Eric's mouth and the zen waterfountain in the corner murmuring softly while they jerked each other off.

Ari's hand was clammy and the angle was all wrong. It felt like everything else in this town felt - a little pushy and a little fake. Ari was still holding his cell phone in his other hand. Eric closed his eyes again, not wanting to see himself in the mirror.

"Vince is going to take care of you for the rest of your life, Eric," Ari said. He sounded soothing. Almost. It made fear crawl up Eric's spine. He broke out in a cold sweat. But he also bit his lip and thrust into Ari's hand. "All you have to do is be his friend." Ari grunted softly and hitched his hips close. "You're good at being his friend."

"Fuck you, asshole," Eric said a little breathlessly. "I'm the best."

"Yeah, baby," Ari whispered. "You're the best."

 

-End.

 


End file.
